


Out of five

by ginnyred



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Christmas Party, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 04:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17134544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyred/pseuds/ginnyred
Summary: “And soon after that I found him stumbling drunk in the Gay Street one night insisting that he was straight,” Filippo rolls his eyes. “So of course I knew he needed my help.”Nico raises an eyebrow.“Is that supposed to be a metaphor or...?”





	Out of five

“Hey! Any panettone left?”

Marti has just left to flush the weed, and Nico looks up in surprise.

A mop of bleached blond hair, a maroon sweater, a shiny lip piercing, and a clever grin. Filippo Sava, Eleonora's brother. Marti introduced them earlier.

Nico cranes his neck to check the plate.

“A little, yeah. But only if you can snatch it before I eat it.”

Filippo's grin widens and he lets himself into the kitchen. He crosses the small room and takes what's left of the panettone, but instead of going back out he leans against the counter and takes a bite.

“I'm glad we finally met. For a while I thought Marti was hiding you from me.” He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe he was.”

The compliment is so convoluted Nico's reply comes out as a question.

“Thank you?”

“And for what?” Filippo takes another bite of the panettone. “I've heard a lot about you.”

Nico cringes slightly at that.

“Mixed reviews, I expect.” He tries to go for light-hearted, but the intensity in Filippo's gaze tells him he missed spectacularly.

Filippo makes a show of shrugging away his comment.

“The Colosseum has mixed reviews if you go and look for them.”

“And you don't?”

“Nah, I trust my judgement more.”

They exchange an awkward smile, and Nico is grateful that nothing more is required of him for once. He tries to lighten the mood.

“So, how is your first-hand experience going so far?” Nico points at himself and pretends to pose. “Five stars out of five?”

“Calm down, _fenomeno_ ,” Filippo laughs in his panettone. “I've known you for two seconds.”

“People have been known to say that's more than enough.”

“If by 'people',” Filippo airquotes it sarcastically. “You mean Marti, then sure. I'm not surprised.”

Nico tries not to look too pleased by that.

“How long have you known each other?”

“A few months. We were introduced at a party back in October, but he barely remembers it. How rude, right?”

“Terribly rude.”

“And soon after that I found him stumbling drunk in the Gay Street one night insisting that he was straight,” Filippo rolls his eyes. “So of course I knew he needed my help.”

Nico raises an eyebrow.

“Is that supposed to be a metaphor or...?”

Filippo laughs.

“I couldn't make this up, I swear,” he replies, amused. “Which part confuses you? His being drunk, in the Gay Street, or insisting that he was straight?”

Nico considers it for a while.

“October, you said? Yeah, none on their own. Maybe the Gay Street, a little bit,” Nico concedes. “But it's the combo that does it.”

Filippo just grins.

“So what next?” Nico prods, as this is turning out way funnier than expected. “You... mentored him?”

“I tried: worst student ever. But things did improve a little, he trusts me now,” Filippo seems to consider Nico for a moment, as if to gauge his reaction, then he adds: “He's my Rose.”

“Sorry?”

“Rose. Like in _Titanic?_ Rose and Jack,” Filippo explains with some gusto. “'Do you trust me' and all that. I'm Jack.”

“Oh,” Nico laughs. “Oh, sure, my bad. How could I miss the striking resemblance.”

“Fuck you,” Filippo says, but he's grinning. “I was about to reassure you that he has never asked to be drawn like one of my French girls, but you're a dick, so I'll just... leave you with the doubt forever.”

Nico finds himself grinning back easily.

“I mean, I'm all for art, but I'm pretty sure Marti would have to be unconscious to stay still for that long.”

“Oh, yeah, he did tell me that _you_ draw,” Filippo points at him with his panettone, but he manages to make it look sophisticated all the same. “So you're the artist type, eh?”

“That's a bit much.” Nico scratches his neck awkwardly. “But I do draw... stuff. Sometimes.”

Filippo rolls his eyes at him.

“Michelangelo said while revealing the Sistine Chapel.”

“Which, coincidentally, is _also_ full of naked people,” Nico points out helpfully. “Why do we keep going back to this?”

“Who says it's a coincidence? Maybe it's just the kind of art I like.”

They share a laugh that feels strangely comfortable. Filippo has a weird charm, a sharp warmth about him, and Nico finds to his surprise that he wants to keep the conversation going.

“Do you draw as wel-” he starts to ask, but he can't finish the sentence.

Marti bursts inside the kitchen, a bowl in hand, and starts speaking urgently.

“Nico, what the hell did you put into the zabaione?” Marti notices Filippo then. He looks at Nico, then back to Filippo, and lights up. “Hey, Filo.”

Filippo smiles back gently.

“Marti. What's going on?”

“A mess with the zabaione,” Marti points at the bowl he's holding as if to demonstrate. “Nico, what did you do?”

“I followed the recipe on your phone?” Nico pretends to be offended by the accusations. “I don't see why whatever this is has to be my fault.”

“Because Luchino spent the last twenty minutes in the bathroom after eating the zabaione.” Marti facepalms. “And, I mean, sure, it's Luca, so it's kind of hilarious. But you were the one who made the zabaione in the first place.”

Nico starts to worry slightly at this point.

He did follow the recipe. Well, he glanced at it a couple of times, for sure.

“Errrr, did anyone else eat it?”

“Three other people, apparently. I mean, we _served_ it to them. And now they're terrified they're going to be sick too. And I've only got one bathroom!” Marti sighs, and walks to the counter to drop the cursed zabaione bowl into the sink. “Did you eat it too, Filo?”

“Er, no. No, I didn't,” Filippo steals a quick glance at Nico and tries not to laugh. “It didn't look... er... that great, so I didn't dare.”

“Oh, come on, we don't know that it was my zabaione!”

“We don't know that it wasn't!” Marti replies heatedly. “I mean, I hope it's just Luchino's weak intestines, but I have seen him eat stuff that you guys couldn't possibly- Argh!”

Marti makes to bang his head against the cupboard, so Nico catches him by the wrist and pulls Marti towards him. When he pretends to resist, Nico makes him twirl on the spot once, as if they're dancing.

Marti laughs and gives in and Nico embraces him from behind.

He looks up at Filippo. Nico has known him for maybe ten minutes, but he can't say he's surprised to see him roll his eyes at them.

“You're disgustingly sweet, I think I'm gonna throw up,” Filippo announces, standing up and brushing panettone crumbs from his sweater. “And it's definitely _not_ the zabaione this time.”

He walks over to them and pats Marti on the cheek.

“You're lucky, love. He's a good one.” They exchange the warmest of smiles, then Filippo looks at Nico and grins. “Four stars out of five. For the cooking.”

“Shut up, you have no proof!”

As if on cue, they hear some commotion coming from the living room.

Nico disentangles from Marti and they all run to the door in time to see the Argentinian's friend, Polidoro, standing up from the sofa and running to the bathroom like the devil is chasing her – or worse.

Filippo turns to Nico, one eyebrow raised, a smug smile on his face.

“You were saying?”

**Author's Note:**

> I had written a version of this a few weeks back, but I rewrote it to fit the setting and the mood of the Christmas party clip. Thank you all for reading and thanks for all the love for my previous works as well. Happy holidays and be careful with the zabaione. x


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